The Night Drive
by The Phoenix Keeper
Summary: A friendly drive down the countryside is about to take a turn for the worst.


"What do I do now?" I asked, just an octave above a whisper as both of my hands securely clutched the leather steering wheel. My knuckles were probably white, but it was too dark to tell. In fact it appeared as if the headlights of my eight year old Toyota were the only source of life to be seen for miles on the secluded country road.

"Just keep going straight. Don't worry, you've got this," Flynn reassured me. I felt a touch calmer hearing his smooth, deep voice- a sedative for my nerves usually, but something was different. Surreal almost. Like hearing a song from your childhood that you thought was long forgotten, yet could still somehow recall all the words. I wanted to hear more but figured it was best to keep my attention on the barren road before us. I kept my eyes on the border line that separated where the headlights lit the road from the inky black blanket that enclosed around it, bracing myself for anything that decided to make a sudden appearance.

"Where are we going again?"

"You'll know it when we get there," he spoke matter-of-factly.

"And what exactly is 'there'?" I asked, slightly agitated.

When he didn't reply I turned my head towards him, and while the most part of face was obstructed by shadows I knew he was smiling when I caught the quick flash of his exposed white teeth. He was so cool and composed, not a single hint of worry or tension in his voice or posture.  
This was ridiculous. Why was I the one driving? I'm the one on the verge of having an anxiety attack while he's sitting back as if this were a leisurely Sunday cruise down the lane. I didn't even know where we were going, but by some bizarre instinct alone I knew that no one else could get us there but me. I couldn't understand my actions but with a huff I drove on.

"Now change gears," he instructed.

"Huh?"

"We're going snail pace here. Why don't you kick it up a notch?"

A corner of my lip lifted slightly hearing the familiar mirth in his voice. "I have to keep to the speed limit. What if I hit something?" I reasoned, feigning authority.

He raised an eyebrow and cast an ironic eye towards the clearly unoccupied lane and then back at me. "Yeah, God forbid you run over a twig."

I rolled my eyes but chuckled none the less, changing up the gears.

"I don't know why you're so strung up. You're doing great. Look, we're almost there, just across the bridge," Flynn gestured towards the general direction in front of us.

"How can you possibly tell?" I squinted beyond what the headlight allowed me to see. He must know this road pretty well to be so confident that a bridge was coming up, let alone be sure that we'd almost reached our obscure destination.

"Trust me, I know," he stated simply, but the tone of his voice had notably altered into something more solemn, perhaps even a little unnerving. As if in the span of a split second he had been unplugged and drained of all contentment.

When I turned to ask if he was alright a single drop of rain landed on the windscreen. Then another and before I knew it, we were abruptly caught in the midst of a raging downpour. Without a moment's thought I reached down to switch on the windshield wipers but the action was futile. Nothing happened. I flipped the switch again but the result was no different than before. I was virtually blind behind this steering-wheel and the anxiety from earlier before coiled around my stomach with renewed vengeance.

"What the hell is going on? Flynn, Help me!" But no reply came. For beside me, was nothing but an empty passenger seat.

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. I was practically catatonic. Where was Flynn? Hadn't I just been talking to him not one minute ago? When he was sitting right beside me! I kept a tighter grip on the wheel to regain control but the car began to swerve of its own accord. My heart was drum-rolling. I gritted my teeth as I suppressed a scream. Where was Flynn? I need him here. I can't do this without him!  
Without thinking, I quickly turned my head to check the back seat only to find it, inevitably, empty.  
When my eyes found the road again, it was all too late. A figure, standing in front a bridge, was coming towards me. Or rather I was the one hurtling towards it. Faster and faster I was approaching but the figure still stood resolute and, from what I could make out through my rain beaten windshield, it was a man with sopping dark hair and wearing a familiar dark denim jacket… Flynn.

I screamed.

I swerved.

A thud.

And crash. Straight through the wooden barriers and head first into the ferocious torrents below.

I woke with a jolt as I found myself back in my room. On my bed. Gripping my sheets. My hairline felt damp and my breath was laboured. Relief washed over me before the tragic memories started to prick at my mind with the wrath of a thousand needles. I sat up hugging my legs against my chest, attempting to get a grip on my trembling limbs.

It was three months ago when I had finally received my driver's licence, and to celebrate I'd decided to take my mom's car and drive my boyfriend and I to the new Italian place on the other side of town.  
However, the storm that night had been less then agreeable with our plans to say the least, and Flynn had suggested that we hold off on our celebratory pizza for another night.

'What harm could a little rain do?' Those were my exact words.  
I loved Flynn, honest to truth I did, but it seemed as if we always did what he '_thought was best'_, and normally I didn't mind it (someone in our relationship had to be the responsible one) but like a spoiled brat, I wanted the night to be all about me. I had wanted to be the one who got to call the shots and I suppose I also wanted to show off a little- driving in the midst of a storm proving, that contrary to popular belief, I was actually capable of doing something on my own without someone holding my hand.  
Why had I been so damn stubborn? I'd always listened to him before. So why not that night?

Of all nights...

I remember it was just before we approached the old wooden bridge that the rain had begun to beat down mercilessly against my windshield and I'd turned to ask Flynn a question (something about if there was an umbrella in the backseat) when, at that precise moment we came across another driver, heavily under the influence as it turned out and failed to comprehend how one-way roads worked. It all happened so quickly, I couldn't keep up with my surroundings. His headlights were growing bigger and brighter at an alarming rate, coming faster towards us. I panicked and swerved without so much as a second thought- what transpired next I suppose is evident.

Now I have people telling me all the time of how it was a miracle it was that I survived; of how lucky I was to make it out with my so-called _'minor_' injuries. How it could have been much worse.  
I wanted to scorn them. As if broken bones or a life sentence in a wheelchair possibly be worse than living my life day after day with this tormenting sense of guilt chained to my ankle like a cinder-block? Never leaving my side, never missing an opportunity to remind of what I did, and Flynn's tragic absence did nothing but amplify it.

I can still hear him calling my name sometimes, like he did night before going over the bridge. Whether he was calling me out of instinct, or belatedly warning me or heck even blaming me, is something I'll never know. I suppose it doesn't really matter anymore which one it was. He's gone now. No more than a memory, a ghost, or a D.O.A as the paramedic so adequately phrased it.

And sometimes I think perhaps, just maybe… I deserve every nightmare I get.

...

_Hey there! So yeah I know, a little darker then my usual stuff but I had this idea for a while now and just wanted to see what you guys thought..._

_Love P.K xXxX_


End file.
